ABC'S of Georg and Maria
by lemacd
Summary: A series of one-shots based on tumblr prompt lists by askboxmeme and kissman91. There will be 26, one for each letter of the alphabet. Please RnR! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1: A is for Amuse

_What the what? I'm going to do something quite brave. Or stupid. I'm going to start multiple writing projects at the same time. My Elsa story will come in due time, but in the meanwhile…_

_This is going to just be a series of one-shots based on an alphabet prompt list from askboxmemes on tumblr. I was inspired to do this by Kissman who wrote 'Chelsie Me', a series of vignettes in the 'Downton Abbey' forum (and if you're a fan of DA, you've probably read it. Or should). I will not come even CLOSE to that kind of brilliance but I just want to try and see what happens. Kissman created another alphabet prompt list and I may just pick and choose which prompt appeals more for each letter. My story, I can do what I want. _

_You can find Kissman's prompt on tumblr, too (kissman91). PM me if you are interested in the link for the actual prompt list (if you do tumblr, please do a nice and reblog the list). You should totally try this with me. _

_The vignettes stand alone, are in no particular order (pre-engagement, post-wedding, in America) and can be AU or canon. I anticipate that they will all be K+ rated, but if not there will be sufficient warning. Ready? _

**A is for Amuse: one character tries to cheer up another**

Georg found his wife staring blankly out the living room window from a chair she had dragged from the corner. She sat with her legs tucked under her, her head resting heavy against the sill. The house was quiet, too quiet. Maria's mood and energy fed off the chaos of their seven children and it pained him to see her so melancholy.

"Is everything all right?" He inquired softly when his presence failed to bring her out of her daze. She turned and offered a weak smile.

"Everything is as it should be," she sighed. He nodded, unable to bring himself to point out that she didn't answer his real question.

"It won't be so bad. Liesl is getting married, she isn't moving to the moon."

"No, but she won't be here. And I miss her already."

"She upstairs sleeping and dreaming of a life of love and happiness. Isn't that what you want for her?"

"Of course, I do. How could I begrudge anyone what I have," she responded with another half-hearted smile. "I would have thought you'd be having a harder time than me. She's your daughter…"

"_Our_ daughter, thank you very much. And no father enjoys the thought of another man taking his little girl away and becoming more important than him. I hate it really… but not as much as I love seeing her happy." Georg reached out a hand and Maria took it slowly. He pulled her gently to her feet and into his arms. He felt her fight it, but eventually sensed her give in to his words. Her body slumped against his and her arms eventually reached around his waist for support. He rubbed his palms lightly over her back in soothing strokes as he heard her sniffling into his lapel.

"I want her to be happy," Maria managed once the tears subsided. "I know I'm being selfish and silly. But she wasn't just a daughter, she was my friend. My confidant." Georg murmured his sympathy and continued to comfort her until Maria finally pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm just going to be sad and mopey for a while, darling. I don't know how you'll put up with me."

"I shall do my best." Maria pulled back and stared at him incredulously.

"That's it?"

"I'm sorry, was that not the right thing to say?"

"You're supposed to try and cheer me up," she answered with a gentle huff. "Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be all about, anyway? You pick me up when I'm down?"

"Well, I…," Georg sucked air through his pursed lips as he scratched behind his ear. "Well, I could take you out to dinner, or maybe a concert. Both?" Maria crinkled her nose and shook her head. "Buy you a present?"

"No, I don't want you to buy me anything. I don't want to go anywhere."

"Recite poetry? Try to juggle? I'm afraid my soft shoe is a bit rusty... let you beat me at chess?"

"Oh, sing for me!" Maria leaped out of his arms and brought her hands together, prepared to plead. Georg moaned and rolled his eyes. "I love when you sing. But if you really don't want to cheer me…"

"But you're the singer, not me," he reasoned, pulling her to him again and reaching for her with his lips. "My talents for cheer lie elsewhere." Maria held him off with two palms firmly against his chest.

"Please?" He looked into the deep pools of her eyes and felt his resolve slowly weakening. It was no use; he knew he could refuse her nothing. He sighed heavily and shrugged his consent. He decided right then that the anguish would be worth it as she beamed at him with pleasure.

Georg told her to sit down by pointing to a settee in the middle of the room and then retrieved the guitar from its usual place nearby. He strummed a few strings to tune it and gave her a smile before beginning a jaunty strain.

"It has been a while since I've sung one, but would you fancy a sea shanty?" He said with a smirk.

"Will it make me blush, Captain?" Maria twisted her lip as she returned his flirting.

"You're a married woman, Maria. I didn't think you blushed anymore." Maria opened her mouth to respond but only giggled instead. She sat back and waited for him to begin singing. Already she could feel her heart begin to beat faster in anticipation.

Maria loved to hear her husband's voice anytime and anywhere. The way he spoke gently to his children, softly to her during moments of quiet intimacy or even bellowing at his morning paper when the news is unpleasant. But hearing him sing always brought her mind back to the first moment she heard him do it. It was the first moment she felt the stirrings deep and low for this man.

_Come me own one__  
><em>_Come me fair one__  
><em>_Come now unto me__  
><em>_Could you fancy a poor sailor lad__  
><em>_Who has just come from sea___

_You are ragged, love__  
><em>_And you're dirty, love__  
><em>_And your clothes smell much of tar__  
><em>_So be gone, you saucy sailor lad__  
><em>_So be gone, you Jack Tar___

_If I am ragged, love__  
><em>_And I'm dirty, love__  
><em>_And me clothes smell much of tar__  
><em>_I have silver in me pocket, love__  
><em>_And gold in great__ store___

_And then when she heard him say so__  
><em>_On a bended knee she fell__  
><em>_I will marry my dear Henry__  
><em>_For I love a sailor lad so well___

_Do you think that I__  
><em>_I am foolish, love__  
><em>_Do you think that I am mad__  
><em>_For to wed with a poor country girl__  
><em>_There's no fortunes to be had___

_I will cross the briny ocean__  
><em>_I will whistle and sing__  
><em>_And since you've refused the__ offer__, love__  
><em>_Some other girl shall wear the ring___

_Oh, I am frolicsome and I am easy__  
><em>_Good-tempered and free__  
><em>_And I don't give a single pin, me__ boys__  
><em>_What the world thinks of me*_

When he finished, Maria clapped in appreciation, but grinned at him with something much fiercer. She stood and made her way to his side slowly, taking the guitar out of his hands and gently placing it back against the settee.

"Come with me, my saucy sailor," she called to him with outstretched arms. Her voice was low and husky and Georg instantly sprang to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"To bed. It's my turn to cheer you up."

"Oh. I didn't realize I was sad." Georg let her pull him toward the stairs, his own yearnings slowly building inside him. Maria stopped for only a moment and then continued.

"You're eldest daughter is getting married tomorrow, and all you'll be able to think about is how soon it will be Friedrich's turn and then Louisa's… by the time Liesl says I do, you'll be picturing Gretl under that veil." Georg swallowed hard.

"Yes, you're right. I'm very sad. I may need lots of cheering up," he agreed solemnly, following her down the hall toward their bedroom.

_*I first heard the song 'Saucy Sailor' sung by the Wailin' Jennys, but it is based on a real sea shanty. These lyrics were written (and recorded, find both on youtube) by Steeleye Span._

**Next: B is for Burden**


	2. Chapter 2: B is for Burden

_So thanks for the reviews and follows! I'm a bit sleep deprived at the moment, but I think this will have to do. I don't own these wonderful characters. _

**B is for Burden: one character shares a burden with another**

"Max, talking to me about the festival right now would be the very worst thing you could do," Georg practically spit the words at his friend following him into the study.

"No, not now. I'm not a fool." The impresario headed straight for the bar cart. He held one of the decanters toward Georg questioningly as a sort of peace offering, but the Captain shook his head and exhaled to calm down. Max poured himself a drink and settled into a leather chair near the desk.

"I'm home barely two hours from my honeymoon," Georg muttered as he tossed a telegram on his desk toward Max. "And this." Max made no move to look at it.

"I'm pretty sure I know what it says," he mumbled. "Herr Zeller paid a visit this afternoon while the children and I were at the venue. Asked if we had heard from you, if I knew when you'd be coming home."

"What? What did you tell him?"

"What do you think? Georg, I may not take sides when it comes to politics as a rule, but I definitely lean heavily toward your side when it really matters. I told him that as far as I knew, you were still blissfully enjoying your honeymoon with your new bride." Georg relaxed only slightly. He leaned his elbows on his desk and began to massage his temples to ward off the headache that was beginning to roar.

"I should still be enjoying my honeymoon."

"Poor timing. You had no choice but to come home. Of course, I wish you had enjoyed at least one more night in Paris," Max lamented. Georg shot him a warning look.

"I know, I know. _Your children do not sing in public_!" Max drained his drink, placed the glass down heavily on the corner of the desk and stood up. "I'll leave you to your thoughts." He headed toward the door but stopped and turned before leaving. "Are you going to tell Maria? About the telegram?"

"I don't know. I suppose I have to tell her something." Georg leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I don't want to upset her with this."

"Yes, well, don't underestimate her." With those parting words, Max left.

If there was one thing Georg had learned about his bride, it was to never underestimate her. His first impression of her left a bit to be desired, to be sure. When he had requested help from Nonnberg, he pictured an ancient, unsmiling wall of a woman that not only understood discipline, but probably helped God write the definition. Instead he got this slip of a girl dressed in the most hideous dress who most impertinently balked at every rule he put before her and clearly knew nothing about being a governess. He was sure his children would chew her up and spit her out. He was so very wrong. By midsummer he no longer saw her as that slip of a girl but as a woman, a beautiful woman who enchanted his children, captured his heart and changed his life.

But this was different. She was just getting her footing in her new life. She assured him that becoming his wife was the easiest thing in the world she had ever done and even an abbreviated honeymoon was proof to them both that she was who she was always meant to be. As for motherhood, it was as simple as changing a hat; the only adjustment she needed to make in that regard was getting used to hearing herself called _Mother_. Loving the children as her own simply carried over.

Yet, everything else was new and he was sure a bit daunting. She had given up so much for him and his children to be thrust into his world, a foreign place she didn't understand completely yet. He tried to ease her into the life as a baroness, to give her time to get used to ordering servants and help navigate which invites for tea and luncheons were sincere and which were simply to trot her out for scrutiny. He knew she was determined to learn restraint, to walk when she wanted to run, smile when she wanted to laugh. He saw the way she stared across the lake at the mountains where she told him she always felt the most free, the look in her eyes when the faint peeling of bells from Nonnberg could be heard on a quiet afternoon. And he loved her for it, and for shrugging all those concerns away with a radiant look of contentment. How he loved her!

It wouldn't be fair, he told himself, to add this to her load. He couldn't ask any more of her than he did when he married her. Max was right and he shouldn't underestimate her. But she deserved only joy during this new beginning. He owed her that and much more.

He picked up the telegram and shoved it into his pocket. He knew what had to be done, but it was a life-changing step and at the moment he couldn't see his way to make that choice. He needed courage enough for both of them. With a weary sigh he got to his feet went to find her. He could hear her voice coming from the sitting room and he paused outside the door before interrupting.

"But what do you do after he stops loving you?" He heard Liesl ask the question, her voice laced with sadness and resignation. He couldn't bring himself to think of his daughter having a love life, never mind a heartbreak.

"Well," he heard Maria muse slowly. "You cry a little and then wait for the sun to come out. It always does." Georg smiled at how experienced Maria sounded giving such advice, his young bride straight out of the convent.

"Sometimes I feel the world is coming to an end…"

"And then you feel it's just beginning?" Maria asked with a laugh. "It was that way for me, Liesl. And for you it will be just as wonderful. I promise."

He quickly realized that she was talking about the time she came back after running away. Not his finest moment, he had to admit. But he was confused. He waited for a sign, any indication that she came back for him. Instead she calmly congratulated him on his engagement and wished him every happiness. It wasn't until much later that she admitted to him that it was the greatest moment of torture her heart had ever experienced and that it took every bit of strength she had to say what she did. He remembered telling her he didn't realize, wished he had known, would have spared her any way if he had. She simply laughed and said it didn't matter since it all worked out beautifully.

He heard laughter and took that as his cue to interrupt and send Liesl away. Once they were alone, he pulled out the telegram. She stared at it and then at him. Her face dropped and became serious as she stepped closer to his side. Just having her closer made him feel his courage fortify.

"What is it?"

"Berlin…" he said, unable to hide his hostility as he explained the content of the telegram. He prepared for her helpless tears. He waited for her cry about the unfairness of it. He waited.

"I knew something like this would happen," she said in a sad hush. "I didn't think it would be so soon." She was calm in her concern and her eyes never left his face. She looked at him expectantly, trusting him to tell her what they would do… together.

"To refuse them would be fatal for all of us," he said quietly. "Joining them would be…unthinkable." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew what had to happen and amazingly, he could tell she knew it as well. It would be dangerous and terrifying, but none of that could be read in her demeanor. He reached for her and drew her to his side with a light kiss to her temple. He wanted to offer her comfort before asking her to share his burden but as her arm came around his waist, he knew she already was. She was strong. And he would be stronger with her by his side.

**Next: C is for Cradle**


	3. Chapter 3: C is for Cradle

**C is for cradle: a story about the characters and an infant or small child**

Under normal circumstances, Georg thought that he would rather enjoy staring his wife back into their bed. This particular occasion, however, was more challenging that he cared to consider.

"You are sick," he stated, stressing each word for all it was worth. "Stay in bed. I'll send Frau Schmidt to see what you need, and then I'll call the doctor…"

"No, don't call the doctor. I'm not dying, Georg. Honestly, it is just a little—," Maria's argument became lost in a coughing spell.

"It's just a little something that will turn into a big something if you don't stay in bed," he answered. He tried to sound caring but he was losing patience. He never liked it when his loved ones became sick.

"But I can't stay in bed," Maria whined as he held the covers back and waited for her to comply. She coughed again. "Look, the children need me. When I've finished getting them ready for school, I'll come back and sleep all day if that will make you happy."

"You'll get in bed now and let the children get themselves ready."

"But…"

"Maria, please. I'll help the children, OK? I'll do whatever needs to be done, just… stay in bed!" He tucked the blankets up around her chin with a bit too much pull. She responded but pushing them away and crossing her arms across her chest.

"But… you'll need to check Kurt's math. And Brigitta has a recitation today and I promised to listen to her one more time."

"I'll take care of it."

"Remind Marta to make sure she has everything before she leaves. She always manages to forget something."

"Yes, I'll do that too, all of it. How hard can it be?"

"Not hard at all," Maria answered sarcastically. "Not if even _I_ can do it."

"That's not what I meant," Georg sighed, rubbing his forehead to abate the ache that was starting to settle behind his eyes. "Look, I'll do it. I'll do everything. You just rest and take care of yourself. We can argue when you're well and I'm not as annoyed." Maria tossed her hands in the air and relented.

Just then, there was a pounding knock at their bedroom door. Maria sat up, but Georg put up his hand and made her stay put.

"Mother? I need you!" It was Gretl.

"I told you," Maria grumbled before beset by another coughing jag.

"I'll take care of it," Georg insisted for the umpteenth time as he made his way to the door. As soon as he opened it, his daughter ran to the bed. She was clad in her nightgown, her hair only partially braided and hanging loose.

"Mother, help me. I can't find my shoes."

"Shoes?" Maria managed between coughs. "Gretl, darling, you need to be dressed. It is getting late!"

"But I can't find my shoes!"

"Gretl, your mother is ill this morning and needs to rest. Please don't bother her about your shoes. Come with me, I'll help you find them." He held out his hand waiting for the child to take it. Instead, Gretl simply stared at him and then turned to stare at Maria.

"But…"

"No, that's the end of it. Let's go and leave her in peace." He waved his hand once more and waited. Finally Gretl climbed off the end of the bed and took her father's hand with reluctance. She looked at Maria with a concerned expression.

"Is Mother very sick?"

"Not very, but she needs rest to get better." They walked through the halls until they reached Gretl's bedroom. "Now, shoes. Which pair are we looking for now?"

"My shiny white shoes."

"The shoes you wore for the wedding? Those are not appropriate for school, dear."

"But I like them. I want to wear them."

"I'm sure you do, but you need to pick a different pair."

"Why?"

"Because they are your nicest pair and you only wear them for church and special occasions." Georg spun around his daughter's room looking for a clue where to start when he saw a dress set out on the end of her bed. "Ah. Here, let's start with this…"

"I hate that dress. I want to wear a different one."

"Gretl, we don't have time for games. There is a lot to do and not much time…"

"I'm going to ask Mother if I can wear-"

"No, you are going to put on this dress and that's final!" Georg held the clothes out to his daughter and gave her strict stare. The girl pressed her lips into a tight line and crossed her arms across her chest. He sighed and crouched down to look her in the eye and offered an encouraging smile. "Look, sweetheart… this dress is very nice. And you look very pretty when you wear it. Will you do it for me? I think it might be my favorite." Gretl nodded and took the dress from her father but clearly disagreed.

"I look better in my pink dress. The ones with the little flowers on it. I like it because it moves a lot. I like dresses that move a lot. I like when I can spin and make my dress go out, like this." She paused to demonstrate a twirl like a ballerina. "This dress doesn't spin very well. I like my green dress, too, even though the sleeves are too tight but it is soft. I like soft things, too. Kittens are soft. Do you think I could have a kitten? Ema has a kitten…" Georg felt the pain behind his eyes start to throb. _Does she ever stop talking?_

"Gretl, please… get dressed while you talk, alright? And I'll… I'll find shoes." He turned to look again. "Um, where do you keep your shoes?" Gretl laughed and pointed to a wardrobe. He found many pairs of little shoes lined up. Gretl rushed to grab the white pair. Georg gently took them back and looked at the others. He didn't have a clue.

"Darling, what shoes did you wear yesterday?"

"My brown ones," his daughter answered forlornly.

"I don't see brown ones." When he didn't hear her answer, he turned to see her shrug. "Where are they?" She shrugged again. "Where were you when you took them off?" Gretl's little face wrinkled as she thought about it and then lit up when she remembered.

"I was in the boys' room! We took our shoes off so we could jump on the beds!"

"You jumped on the...," Georg stopped himself with a deep breath. "Gretl, we are wasting time. Please change your dress and I will go get your shoes. Now!" He quickly marched out of the room and headed toward the boys' room when he was interrupted.

"Mother said you'd listen to my recitation," Brigitta said without preamble as she thrust a sheet of paper toward him.

"Don't bother your mother, she's ill and needs to rest."

"I'm not bothering her," Brigitta answered back. "I'm bothering you. She said you'd do it." Georg kept walking.

"Well, I'm trying to get your sister dressed. Go ask one of the others to listen to you."

"Liesl is checking Kurt's math and Friedrich and Louisa are arguing."

_At least I won't have to do Kurt's math_, he thought as he nodded and kept walking. "I have to find shoes, so just… do it now while I look." Brigitta gave a short nod and began.

He tried to listen with some attentiveness while he searched. He located one shoe right away, relieved to finally know exactly what he was looking for. Brigitta followed him closely as she continued her oration. _Shakespeare? Donne? He couldn't really tell… _

"…Or snorted we in the Seven Sleeper's den? 'Twas so, um… 'twas so… uh, Father? I can't remember how the next part goes." She thrust a paper at him. He looked at it and then her distractedly. "Or snorted we in the Seven Sleeper's den? 'Twas so…" _What is she talking about?_ He glanced the page and found the words.

"'Twas so; but this, all pleasures..."

"Yes! 'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be." Brigitta resumed her poem and Georg returned to his shoe hunt. Finally, after getting on his hands and knees, he found the wretched shoe under a bed. Victorious he jumped up and walked briskly to find Gretl with Brigitta close on his heels.

"Gretl, here are… Gretl?" The child was not where he left her but two minutes before. He grunted loudly and turned on his heels, knowing where to find her. Sure enough, she was sitting on his bed, her shoeless feet dangling off the edge. She was babbling away as Maria quickly but gently brushed her long hair. "I thought I told you to leave your mother alone."

"I'm only doing her hair," Maria defended. "Someone has to do it."

"That someone is supposed to be me! Why is it so hard to get you to let me do things?"

"I know, but…"

"Give me the brush." He held out his hand, snapped his fingers snapping his fingers impatiently. Maria gave a quiet huff and then handed him the brush. He then waited for the ribbons.

"Darling, you can't use…"

"Maria, please. Let me get on with it." Maria shrugged and gave over the two pale pink ribbons. She sat back and eyed him curiously.

He suddenly realized he reacted too brashly. He knew nothing about doing little girls' hair. He started by brushing to stall for time. He hesitantly played with a few locks trying to figure out what he was supposed to do when he looked up at Maria. Her smirk was growing and while he knew the most expedient thing to do would be to hand the ribbons back to her and let her finish, he was too annoyed.

_This is ridiculous_, he chided himself. _You spent half your life tying ropes into knots. How hard can this be? _ He began to make work of it, twisting and turning Gretl's soft tresses. He fumbled with the ribbon but decided to be satisfied with what he managed.

"There. Finished. You look beautiful. Now hurry—,"

"What… have you done?!" Maria covered her mouth with a hand, her attempt to suppress her laughter causing her to start coughing again. Two masses of hair stuck out of the back of the child's head and hung loosely at different angles.

"What? It's just a simple sailor knot, a bit modified for the situation. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Maria coughed harder. He stared at his handiwork. _It wasn't that bad_, he thought. _Not bad for a first try anyway_. Gretl shook her head and one of the ribbons instantly fell to the floor.

"Oh, who am I kidding," he relented, handing the brush back to Maria. He watched as she ran her hand deftly through Gretl's hair to undo his knots and then gathered it all between her fingers. He tried to pay attention but Brigitta was stuck again and he couldn't find the sheet to prompt her.

"My face in thine eye, um… my face in thine eye…" Brigitta's face trailed as she searched her brain for the next line. In the next beat, Maria picked up where Brigitta left off.

"My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north," she looked pointedly at Georg as she tied the final ribbon. "without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; If our two loves be one, thou and I, Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die." She finished before falling into another coughing spell. "Gretl, darling, mind your father and finish getting ready for school. Don't forget your hat and gloves. It's cold." The child obediently hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, her older sister following quickly. Georg moaned and collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

"I honestly don't know how you do it every day," he uttered with total awe. "That was just two children. We have seven!"

"None do slacken, none can die," Maria answered, stroking his forehead before bending down to lay a kiss there. "We're not just husband and wife, you know. We're parents. Together. We each do our part and get the job done. I appreciate that you tried and to be honest, you were very successful."

"Except for the hair."

"Well, yes. That was a bit… totally wrong." Maria laughed as she pushed to helped him sit up when he shifted. "It can be a battle for me, too."

"Shoes! She fought me on shoes!" Maria laughed until she coughed.

"Yes, well," she choked in response. "That still might not be your biggest battle of the morning."

"What?" As if on cue, they both could hear the heavy sound of feet stomping making their way closer.

"Mother!" Marta hollered as she stormed into their bedroom, her face flushed with anger. "Why did you say Gretl could wear my favorite ribbons?" Maria looked at her husband's horrified expression and began to cough.

"I'm sick today, Marta dear. Your father is in charge of hair ribbons. Please ask him," she replied as she lowered herself under the covers. She gave her husband a not-entirely sympathetic look before adding quietly, "I tried to warn you. Good luck, Captain."

_This prompt was just ripe for a fluffy little cute baby story, but I didn't want to go for the obvious. I'll blame the current flavor of the stage of parenting I'm in; my current job description is 'shoe hunter'. It takes up way too much of my day. Also, I have three, no four… no five nieces (wait… yes, five). I know for a fact that 4 of them like when their dad does their hair. And I know for a fact that their dads rather enjoy it. This is an insight into life with girls I never expected. Still, I don't believe our guy would have the first clue what to do with girl hair and ribbons. _

_The poem is 'The Good Morrow' by John Donne. It's about waking up in the morning and realizing that the love by your side is your perfect balance. Inappropriate for a 10 year old, maybe. But it worked for my story so I don't apologize. This is rather silly and OOC but the point is there, that they are a balanced unit and together get the job of raising seven children (say it with me, "Seven children?!") done. Donne. Get it? Ok, not as funny… _

_I have a favor to ask. Please leave a review and vote for the next prompt because I don't know which one to pick. I'm leaving it in your hands just this once._

**Next: D is for Daydream or D is for Drink?**


	4. Chapter 4: D is for DaydreamDrink

_A/N: First of all, thanks to all who let me know which 'D' prompt they wanted me to use. 'Daydream' was a clear winner, but there was a vote for 'Drink' and I'm just a happy little people pleaser so… no, I'm not, not really. I will say that utility_singer's suggestion about using both struck a creative nerve. _

_I promised to give fair warning if the rating changed and this vignette is definitely firmly in the T rated category. Read responsibly, children. _

_Now, I played a little loose with the prompt directions, but somehow I don't think anyone will really mind. I mean, the point is to have fun, right? Enjoy._

**D is for Daydream: a story where one character daydreams about the other D is for Drink: a story where two characters take shots together**

Georg needed a break. He was glad there was the excuse of planning a party to occupy Elsa's day, it certainly seemed to make her happy. He never wanted her to be unhappy, that was for sure. But with each discussion of menu and guest lists, he was hit with the realization that the last time he had hosted such a grand affair, he had Agathe by his side. There was a time not long before when this kind of thought would bring him low, but oddly it was just a memory that he could brush aside with fondness. When he mentioned this to Elsa, she simply smiled as if he was giving her credit for something.

He found himself walking toward the edge of the lake. The rain from the night before mercifully provided a break in the humidity and he decided to enjoy a leisurely stroll. Georg knew he should have asked Elsa to join him, but he didn't. Every day she became less subtle in her talk of marriage and he wasn't in the right mood to deal with it. He didn't discourage her, though something deep down told him he should. He sighed. Something was not right.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of his children yelling across the lawn. Another thing he never would have allowed and yet now it brought a smile to his face to know they were happy. He crept closer to the gathering, not keen to be detected.

"Line up," Maria ordered, and instantly his children fell into their usual rank. "Oh, no. Marta, darling, you're first. Then, uh… Friedrich, then Liesl. Just find your place in the song, please."

"I'm last!" Gretl complained. "I'm always last!" Maria tilted her head.

"It's ok to be last," Maria soothed his youngest. "In fact, it means you'll be on stage the longest. You get to be the big star at the end."

"Oooh," Gretl beamed to the amusement of all, including her father who shook silently with a laugh.

It was a wonder to watch them together, talking all at once, jumping and twirling, stepping together like the inner workings of a clock. It didn't occur to him to understand what they were up to, he was too thankful that it they were having fun. And it was thanks to Fraulein Maria.

"He's going to kick me?" Marta exclaimed in a fit of giggles.

"Well, not really. Just pretend. Here, let's show her, Friedrich." His son shook his head and backed away. "What? What's the matter?"

"I can't kick you, Fraulein. It would be wouldn't be gentlemanly." Georg crossed his arms and continued to be amused.

"For heaven's sake, even less so to kick your sister. I'm giving you permission for both just this once. I'd think you'd welcome the opportunity. Come on."

As much as he was enjoying the antics of his seven offspring, Georg found himself constantly drawn to the governess. He would gladly admit his opinion of her had altered in the few weeks since his return from Vienna. Then again, she was unlike anyone he had ever met. He imagined he was not the first person to not know what to make of her.

There was a gracefulness about her as she moved around with the children, and yet she seemed totally unaware of how it looked, flitting about with his daughters, laughing at Kurt and ruffling his hair after he tried to sing some outrageously high note. It was like she was one of them and if he thought about it too much, he knew she was closer to being one of them than not. Her youth and joie de vivre seemed boundless and completely undeterred by whatever the world may have thrown her way. That was it, he decided, she was an innocent. Was it any wonder she wanted to be a nun? He kept watching. Her kind was rare and his cynical side was sure she could never survive in the real world.

Don't fool yourself, he instantly chided himself. She stood up to you, didn't she? That fact alone made her as stubborn and brave as any man he commanded in the navy. She was smart and fearless and didn't seem to know the meaning of restraint. Suddenly the thought of her growing old in a convent seemed like a waste.

"Are you going to dance at the party, Fraulein Maria?"

"Me? Oh, no, Louisa. I don't think so." Maria brushed off the question as she herded the others into a new position.

"You know how to dance, don't you? You like to dance, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but… who'll dance with me? I won't be a guest at the party." Fraulein Maria shrugged at the obviousness of her answer and yet frowned at the disappointed look on the girl's face. "I'm going to be a nun, Louisa. I can tell you that there isn't much dancing at the Abbey. But I've danced plenty in my life so there's no need to feel sad for me."

"But you aren't a nun yet. I would think you'd want to dance as much as you can before _that_ happens." The governess gave her a disapproving look before giggling and clapping her hands to get her brood to focus.

Georg found himself in agreement with his daughter. It seemed a great pity for her to put aside something that so clearly suited her spirit. He wanted to see her dance, to see her face as she waltzed around the ballroom. He always believed there was something different about a woman's countenance when she was dancing. His Agathe was never more beautiful than when he held her in his arms on a ballroom floor.

His eyes became unfocused the more he contemplated the scenario of her dancing at the party. His eyes closed slowly as he let himself be her partner in this fantasy. He could hear the music, but she was his only vision. She smiled as he extended his hand to her and then gathered her to himself. Her body was soft and her hand in his almost weightless. They moved effortlessly together, the world around them spinning into oblivion until it was only the two of them in this strange world.

Her skin was smooth like ivory and a light from somewhere caught in her golden hair and bluest blue eyes. Her beauty was intoxicating, so natural and pure. He gathered her closer to himself, pulling her by her waist against his body. She was so warm and it felt so good to hold her in his arms. In this daydream world, she didn't resist him, rather her smile spread to her eyes. He heard her laugh and it was almost musical.

"Oh, Captain," she said in a voice low and flirtatious. "If you hold me like this much longer, I do hope that it means you intend to kiss me."

Georg's eyes flew open. Suddenly it didn't seem that there was a break in the heat at all. He reached a finger into his collar and tugged viciously, trying hard to breathe. How could he imagine such a thing? His children's governess? A postulant? She was on loan from a convent, for goodness sakes, under his protection and care. The very idea!

He fumbled to loosen his necktie with one hand while searching his pockets for a handkerchief to mop the sweat that seemed to be pouring endlessly down his face. After a few moments, he managed to gather himself enough to turn around and head back toward the house. It wasn't a sin to daydream, at least he didn't think so. Gosh, he hoped it wasn't.

"Get it together, man," he growled under his breath. It was a dance, nothing more than that. It wasn't as if he dreamed about—oh dear god, he needed a drink in the worst way.

M&G&M&G&M&G

Maria caught sudden movement out of the corner of her eye as she rearranged the children to practice the dance once again. She saw the Captain walk briskly away from his hiding place behind a tree and sighed. She had hoped the children would be able to surprise him and his guests at the party but now they were found out. That fact, however, didn't bother her nearly as much as his hasty retreat. She recalled his adamant words about the children singing in public, but this was very different. It would be in their own home and to make him proud.

"I think we've had enough for today," she exhaled wearily. "Go and play." She knew she wouldn't have to tell them twice. She slowly made her way to the terrace to figure out what to do with this development.

"Fraulein?" Liesl caught up to her and followed alongside her toward the house.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I want to hear more about dancing," Liesl gushed, her bright-eyes lighting up her face.

"Oh? Have you never danced with a boy?" Maria laughed.

"With a boy, yes, at school. But that isn't what I mean. What is it like to dance with a man? It must feel wonderful to have a man ask to take you out on the floor for everyone to see." Liesl's words were full of awe. Maria couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what it's like someday, Liesl. The truth is that I haven't danced since I was a girl in school." She glanced at Liesl watched her face fall into a frown, laughing sympathetically as she put a comforting arm around her. "When you are old enough to attend balls and parties, you will have men lined up at your feet to dance. There is no need to waste so much time wondering about it now." She waved the girl away to join her siblings and enjoy the day.

She reached the terrace alone. Maria let herself drop into a chair, rested her eyes closed and let the gentle breeze cool her face. Dancing with a man. Was it really such a magical thing to dance with a stranger, to be held awkwardly while he pushed and pulled you across a crowded floor? It was bad enough to suffer sore toes from the gawky boys who were forced to find a partner. Maria could only imagine what would happen with an eager clod with bigger feet.

As she slowly opened her eyes, she turned her head and caught sight of the Captain standing in his study window. Moments later he turned and saw her. They stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before he moved away from the window. Maria tried to interpret the look on his face, praying it wasn't displeasure at learning about the surprise. She decided it was unlikely. If there was one thing she knew about this man, it was that he would have told her in no uncertain terms what he really thought of her plan. Loudly.

But that was before something changed him. He was totally different now. Not totally, she admitted, he was still as dignified and self-possessed as he was the day she first arrived. Everything he said and did just seemed to ooze graciousness; the way he talked, chewed his food, even when he stormed the ballroom and slammed the doors open looking for her… she had to grant that it was done with a certain sophistication.

That last thought returned her mind to Louisa and Liesl's questions. If they had seen her bowing and curtseying like a fool to an unknown partner that day in the ballroom, they would have dropped all fantasies about her dance prowess at a party. As if anyone would ask her to dance! Maybe the Captain would out of pity, but even that wasn't very likely. She laughed.

Do decorated heroes of the Royal Navy even bother to ask a woman to dance? Or does he simply approach her, hold out his stark white glove-covered hand and effortlessly float her to the dance floor? Does he let his fierce blue eyes do the asking for him? The corners of her mouth curved slightly. It was ridiculous but she imagined it would happen just that way. If he asked her.

She imagined his other hand holding firm to her waist, confident and strong. She didn't have to fear looking foolish. All she had to do was follow him. In fact, all she would have to do is stare into his eyes and trust him to take her every step of the way.

And so she did in her sudden fantasy. She locked her gaze with his and surrendered to his masterful lead. He pulled her closer to him, his warm hand practically scorching the small of her back with his delicate gentle touch. He pulled their joined hands to his chest and leaned his face toward her, resting his soft cheek against hers. She felt his moist breath fanning against her ear and the steady beat of his heart against her palm.

"I always imagined we would move well together, Maria," he whispered, his deep baritone electrifying the swirling air around them.

"You imagined us dancing?" she replied breathlessly.

Captain von Trapp pulled his head back and smiled into her face, his lips lingering so close to hers. "I wasn't talking about dancing, Maria-"

_"Maria?" _

Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly that she nearly fell out of her chair. She crawled back upright clutching at her chest and panting heavily trying to recover. She wasn't sure which shocked her more, being startled out of a daydream or daydreaming about… no, she couldn't have been daydreaming about that. They were only dancing. That's all.

That's all.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people, Captain," she said sharply before looking up to see him hovering over her.

"Are you alright? You look incredibly flushed."

"Yes, it is getting a little bit warm," Maria mumbled, still trying to catch her breath, unable to look at him for too long. Not in his face. Not in his eyes. She ran her trembling hand through her hair. She was going to be a nun, for heaven's sake! She was going to take vows, put aside worldly *_gulp_* pleasures. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her fingertips, willing herself to pull herself together, praying he didn't notice the heat flaring in her cheeks.

Georg stared at the whiskey swirling around at the bottom of the tumbler in his hand. She wouldn't even look at him. Did she know what he was thinking as he watched her with the children? He exhaled and told himself to be calm and act like nothing happened.

It was only a daydream, she reasoned.

It was just a daydream, he told himself. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"Uh, Fraulein? Frau Schmidt set out some refreshment. Perhaps you need a drink?" He set his glass down on the table and reached for the pitcher of lemonade.

"What? Oh, yes. Yes, a drink," she answered.

Georg's jaw dropped as she grabbed the tumbler and tossed back the rest of his whiskey.

**Next: E is for Education**


	5. Chapter 5: E is for Education

**E is for Education: a story where one character teaches something to the other**

"Fraulein, whatever you do, don't let the…" SLAM! "…door shut behind you."

It took a few beats for Maria to understand what he said and what happened. She spun quickly, grabbed the door handle and gave it a futile shake. "Oh, for heaven's sake! We're locked in!"

"That's why I tried to tell you to make sure it didn't close behind you. When it slams, the lock sticks."

"A bit sooner might have been helpful, Captain. What are we going to do?" Maria frantically shook the handle again. He let her work at it for half a minute before gently but firmly informing her it was no use. "But how are we going to get out?"

"Wait, I suppose. Someone will come looking for us eventually."

"Who?! Who knows we're here?!" The pitch of her voice was rising and the Captain noticed red blotches starting to spread over her throat.

"You mean, you didn't tell anyone that what we were doing?"

"Didn't you?"

"No, I just assumed that you would have told one of the children. Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten us into, Fraulein."

"Me?! Captain, if you knew the door would slam shut…"

"My, aren't we a bit high strung?" the Captain teased, aware that she wouldn't thank him for it. "This is not a big problem, Fraulein. We're not in any danger. We have daylight so we're not entirely in the dark…"

"It's a coffin with a window."

"It's a boat house!"

"Great, if it slips into the lake, we'll float awhile before we die."

"Fraulein, you have just got to relax! What is the problem anyway? I mean, besides being locked in my boat house?" Maria frantically ran her fingers through her hair and then tried the door one more time. "Fraulein?" She wouldn't look at him.

"I am a bit claustrophobic, Captain. More than a bit, actually."

"You're kidding." He let out a disbelieving chuckle at her confession.

"No, I'm not. There isn't anything funny about it at all."

"It is a _little_ funny," he teased, pinching his fingers together for emphasis. "How do you manage confession? Or do you have nothing to confess?"

"Don't be stupid," she hissed and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You may have a hard time believing this, Captain, but I can get myself out of a confessional. For one thing, they don't have ridiculous locks on them." She looked around. "Why is this a boat house when you couldn't fit a boat for a bath tub in here?" She looked at him and saw an amused smile stretch across his face. "Are you just going to stand there?! Can't you do something?"

"What do you propose I do?" He asked back, laughing incredulously.

"Break the door or something."

"Have you been reading romance novels, Fraulein?" he said, clicking his tongue with mock dismay. "The heroes in those books might be able to bust through a door for a fair damsel in distress, but I would only succeed in dislocating my shoulder." She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Of all the outrageous, irresponsible…" She pulled on the handle yet again, this time with as much force as she could muster. When it wouldn't open, she pressed her mouth against the space between the door and the jamb and began to call for help. The Captain found a small spot of wall and settled against it to watch her make a spectacle of herself. She finally stopped and leaned her forehead against the door. For a second he thought she was crying. Instead, she brought her fists above her head and began pounding.

"You know, I've seen this happen before," he mused after Maria pushed away from the immovable door. She began to pace in the small space available, mostly just turning in a circle. "Some of my men would lose their minds in the tight confines of the submarines. Even those who were experienced for years would snap." Maria looked at him as if waiting for him to have a point that would be of interest or use to her. He cleared his throat and maneuvered around her as he pretended to inspect the door as if being a submarine captain would make the boat house door submit to him. "So, I, uh… learned a few techniques to help them cope with that feeling of being constricted." As soon as he said that word, Maria squirmed with a renewed sense of being trapped. Her breathing began to become a bit ragged and heavy.

"Such as?"

"Oh, well, I don't think…"

"You mean you aren't going to tell me? Why bring it up at all?"

"Fraulein, I just don't think you'd be open to the idea."

"Do you know how desperate I am right now?"

"It's just that…"

"Captain, please… help me!"

"Well, I used to tell them that they should go back to their quarters and remove all their clothing." Maria blinked at him, and then her eyes flared.

"If you aren't going to do anything to help me, the least you could do is not make fun of me." She was trembling as she berated him.

"You insisted you wanted to know!"

"I should have known you wouldn't take this seriously. You seem to enjoy tormenting me."

"If anyone should feel offended, Fraulein, it should be me. It is clear that you are afraid of being locked in here with me like I'm some kind of fiend." The look Maria gave him didn't indicate that she was a long way from disagreeing with him. Partly to alleviate the tension with humor but mostly because he was a bit annoyed, his voice became melodramatic. "Don't worry, my dear postulant! I will not molest you and leave you unworthy of your vows!" He paused and waited for her angry retort, but it was if she wasn't even listening. He sighed and tried again. "You are safer with me in here that if you were in here alone, I assure you."

"It isn't you," Maria cried. "I told you, I don't like being locked in tight places. It feels like I am choking. My heart is beating like it might explode." She turned to the door and shook the handle again. "It just might, Captain, if we don't get out of here soon!"

"We've been here all of five minutes," the Captain chided. He watched her continue to wring her hands and spin in a circle. "Chances are we'll be here a while. You'll wear yourself out if you don't calm down. Don't you have a song you sing when…?"

"I can barely breathe, Captain. Singing isn't going to work. Nothing works except _getting out_!"

"We will. Someone will find us."

"You don't understand," she cried the words with renewed frenzy.

"Then explain it to me. What makes you so irrationally afraid of four walls and a door?" he asked snidely and then added with a laugh. "Were you habitually locked in a closet as a child?"

He meant it as a joke, but Maria flinched at his words. She quickly turned away from him and tried the door one more time, only it was half-hearted. He didn't mean to guess the true source of her fears. How could he possibly have known anyway? He kicked himself for making fun of her.

"I wish someone would come look for us," she said in a quivering whisper. "We could be here all night. I wonder what the Baroness will say. And the children. I really wish you would take this seriously, Captain." Her hand still gripped the door tightly and he could see her knuckles turning white.

"Fraulein," he called softly. The Captain moved to the small space between them. "Please turn around." She slowly turned but wouldn't look up. He stepped closer and reached out with both arms. At first Maria took a tentative step back, but he rested a hand firmly on each shoulder and held her at arm's length. He lowered his gaze, willing her to look up at him. It disturbed him to see her eyes, large and round, almost bulging from her face in fear. "Listen to me. Someone will come and find us. The grounds are extensive but there really are only so many places we could be." Maria nodded.

"I know you're right but…"

"Close your eyes." Maria obeyed but with a weary sigh. "Think about a wide open space. Picture it in your mind." He felt her shoulders slump under his touch.

"Captain, I know you mean to help but…"

"I know! Think about your mountain."

"My… my mountain?" Her eyes popped open in surprise.

"Yes, picture a beautiful sunny day… no clouds, just blue sky as far as your eye can see."

"How did you know about my mountain?" The Captain smiled slightly; it was starting to work.

"Not very important right now. Close your eyes, please," he ordered gently and once again she did as she was told. "Now, there you are out in the field, spinning in the tall grass, singing your heart out. You can feel the breeze in your hair, in your face. Can you picture it? Can you feel it?"

"S-s-spinning?"

"There's so much space up there, isn't that right? The green grass just goes forever and over the edge of the mountainside. You could run for hours." Maria nodded. He could feel the tension start to leave her as her breathing evened out. He continued to soothe her with images of the airy open spaces until she took a deep breath and exhaled and smiled.

"Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome. Now, you can open your eyes if you want but if you start to panic, just… close them again and return to your mountain." She slowly opened her eyes. He never thought of himself as an oblivious man by any means but it struck him for the first time since he met her that her eyes were quite pretty.

In fact, he couldn't help it; he saw her differently now. She wasn't some ridiculous caricature from a child's fairy tale. She _was_ cheerful and sweet and undeniably lovely, but all that covered up a vulnerability that he had to admit he found interesting and maybe even a little enchanting. More than enchanting, if he were to be honest. Her face was calmer but still flushed from her hysterics… she practically glowed. She no longer gasped for air, but her lips remained slightly parted. Before he could stop himself he wondered what it might be like to kiss her.

"Captain?" Maria glanced down at his hands which had started gently rubbing her shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he coughed, pulling his hands away as if she were fire. "I didn't, I mean… please forgive me, Fraulein."

"How did you know about my mountain?" She quickly changed the subject.

"Hmmm? Oh, well… the children must have told me."

"But you described it like you have been there."

Before he could respond, they both heard the sound of shouting coming from the path that led up to the villa. The Captain and Maria quickly began banging on the door and calling out to the search party. In seconds, they could hear the children's cry of discovery and the pounding of feet as they ran to the boat house.

It only took a few minutes more for the door to be opened. The Captain stood back and let Maria exit first. She gave him a brief embarrassed look as she squeezed by him through the door. He tried to reassure her with a quick smile but the children swarmed her once she was in the open and her attention was on their barrage of questions.

"Children, give Fraulein Maria some space, please." She looked up at him as soon as he said it, her face stricken. He knew in that moment that he was in possession of very delicate information, something she never intended for him to know. He wished he could somehow let her know that it was safe with him, that she was safe with him.

Eventually the small crowd started back toward the house. Maria dropped behind the group of children and into step with the Captain.

"Thank you for helping me," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the ground ahead of them, her hands clasped behind her back. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I wasn't lying about the men on submarines. It didn't happen a lot, but it did happen," he explained dismissively, but then he stopped walking, causing her to stop and look up. "And that is why I must apologize to you, Fraulein. I should have recognized the situation and been more sensitive with the things I said."

Maria smiled and shook her head and turned to start walking again. "You more than made up for it by teaching me that trick."

Georg simply nodded. He didn't tell her that he thought he learned something, too.

_Thanks so much for the reviews and the follows. I don't own 'The Sound of Music' or the characters. Frowny face._

**Next: F is for Faith**


	6. Chapter 6: F is for Faith

_A/N: I'm not very proud to admit this but I wrote the bulk of this while sobbing through an episode of 'Touched by an Angel' this morning. For real. I was doing OK until the dad told his eldest daughter "You were the first baby I ever loved." Waterworks._

_So… a word about my TSOM headcanon. I think my post-Anschluss Maria is more like the Maria in 'B is for Burden'… strong, ready to climb ev'ry mountain and ford every stream for her family. But, you know, she's human, too. And I don't think it is too OOC to imagine that she had a brief spiritual crisis. _

_I didn't want to get preachy so it's not a very long story. And just a reminder that these are not in order so (yay!) they're back to being married. For now. Let me know what you think…_

_Disclaimer: same as A-E… _

**F is for Faith: one character explains an aspect of their religious or moral philosophy to the other**

Maria wasn't aware she was holding her breath until Georg put the newspaper down. He had just finished reading the headline story to her, his voice tired and serious and yet calm. They sat in solemn silence at the small table in their hotel suite, their room service breakfast untouched. Maria waited for him to say something, anything. As for her, she had only one thing on her mind.

"Georg," she finally broke the silence. "What about the children? We have to know if they are all right!" He nodded quickly and reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sure they are fine," he answered soothingly. "The reports say it was peaceful. But don't worry, I plan to call home as soon as possible." It disgusted him to characterize the Anschluss in such terms; the fact that it was peaceful mattered little to him. But he could hear the panic in her voice and feel it in her trembling hand. "I also think we should go home. I'm sorry, Maria, I know our plans were to—"

"No! Of course we must go home! I don't know if I could possibly enjoy the rest of this honeymoon now." Georg raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean… I don't mean… Oooh."

"I know, I know what you mean. But we won't be going in the next five minutes, so please try not to work yourself up about it. We should finish breakfast at least and then I'll see if the hotel manager can help me telephone Max." Georg brought her hand to his lips and gave it a quick kiss before releasing it and reaching for his coffee. Maria shook her head.

"I can't eat, not now!" The words tripped out of her mouth. "I'm too worried! It's so wrong to be separated from the children while all this is happening. I'm worried because I don't know what this means, Georg! I don't understand how this could be happening!"

He watched his wife stand and begin pacing around the room wringing her hands until her knuckles were white. He stood up slowly, barely taking a step toward her before she crashed into his arms.

"I'm not sure I understand it any better than you, my dear. This has been brewing for a while now. I honestly believed the chancellor's word that Austria would remain independent." He rested his cheek against her head and sighed heavily. They clung to each other for a while, unsure what else to say.

"Should I start packing?" Maria finally moved out of his arms, her nerves making it impossible to stay still for long. "Maybe we should go try to telephone Max first. Or I could try to telephone and you can try to fix the train tickets?" She froze and looked at him wide-eyed. "You don't think the trains will stop running, do you? How will we get home if…"

Georg shook his head and ran his hands up and down her arms trying to calm her. "We will get home, Maria. I can promise you that."

"The last time I was this frightened I ran away to the Abbey," Maria said with a short laugh, giving him a knowing look. "I've been told not to run away from my problems. I've got to… _we've_ got to face them."

"Maybe just this once you should run away," he suggested to a surprised Maria. "I think you should go to that little church we've passed a few times this week and pray. Find your peace. You'll feel better and when you get back we can deal with the details." He moved closer to her and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Maria nodded and slowly withdrew from him to get dressed.

Maria returned from the church less than an hour later looking even more distressed than when she left. She entered the suite quietly, barely acknowledge her husband when he greeted her and headed straight into the bedroom. Georg followed her and found her curled up on the bed in tears.

"Maria?" He sat next to her and put a hand on her hip.

"I… I couldn't pray," she sniffed. Her eyes were red and swollen, but most disconcerting was the despair that wracked her entire body. "I tried, but suddenly I didn't know how. I didn't know… who. All my life, I thought I prayed to a God of love, of goodness and truth. How can God let this happen? I don't understand how there can be things like war and death and victory for evil in the world if there is such a God."

"Deep down you know there is," he reassured her, wiping away a tear that escaped. "You're only human, Maria, and even the strongest and most fearless believers have moments of doubt. It isn't a sin. You're being tested."

Maria sat up slowly but said nothing. She was about to contradict him, tell him that it was more than being tested. There was once a very real time when she planned to give her whole life to God, to forsake everything and live a life of service to him. Her faith was deep, the fabric of who she was. This wasn't a test, it was a crisis. Suddenly it felt like a part of her body had been cut off. But as she looked into his eyes, she couldn't dismiss his words too quickly. He was older and experienced sadness and loss, too.

"You've been tested. How long did it take you to believe again?"

Georg shifted on the bed until he was more comfortably settled against the headboard and then he gestured for her to rest against him. He tucked her hair behind her ear, repeating the stroke as he started to talk.

"You should know, Maria. A long time," he paused for a moment. "I was never very religious, you know. I believed in my country, in the war we were fighting, in the navy… when it came to that, I was as fervent as your Reverend Mother. God, however, was rather low on the list of things that gave me a sense of purpose. I was bitter when I lost my career in the navy," he cleared his throat and pulled her a bit closer. "But when Agathe died I started to seriously question what kind of loving deity would do that to me." Maria hummed her understanding.

"You were angry." It was a statement more than an observation.

"I was angry at God, at her, at myself. I figured that if God would take away everything I ever cared about, he didn't deserve my devotion. Besides, it hurt too much to keep asking why. I thought that if I just accepted that there was no God, the pain would stop and the bitterness would go away."

"But I'm not angry," Maria interjected, trying to speak through threatening tears. "I just feel… nothing. That there is nothing holding this world together. On my loneliest days, I never felt like this."

"You aren't alone," Georg said. "You're never alone." The warmth of her in his arms vanished as she quickly sat up and looked at him imploringly.

"How can you be so sure? What is to stop Berlin from demanding your service now?" Maria started to tremble. "Is this God's plan? He brought us together only to tear us apart? No. It makes no sense. There's no meaning in it! There's no meaning in any of it." Maria dissolved into tears and allowed her husband to hold her again. He waited and whispered quiet endearments until she became calm.

"Listen to what you just said, that God brought us together. Do you believe that? Because I do," he reasoned. "But let's say there is no such thing as divine Providence working in our lives. In that case, you and I were merely brought together by fate. And fate could tear us apart at any moment. There are no miracles. There is no hope. Whatever happens will happen whether we believe or not."

"You sound like Max."

"Hmm, don't I?"

Maria stared at her husband. This man next to her was the answer to prayers she never uttered, the very happiness she long denied her soul to dream. He was the fulfillment of every desire in her heart, those newly discovered and those still hidden. The first time he kissed her, it was like the scales had fallen from her eyes and she saw herself clearly for the first time. She was meant to be with him. No man would ever be able to make her feel the way he did. She couldn't believe for one second that it was anything less than a miracle.

"I don't believe that," she whispered. "I know that every moment of my life before we met was just one step closer to finding you."

"Maria, you blew into my life and it was like my lungs filled with air for the first time in forever, like I was given a chance to live again. I marvel at the way you fit so perfectly into my life." Georg brought at hand to her cheek and caressed it gently. "You love me in a way that no one has ever loved me. You are so perfect and beautiful and the fact that you are mine… don't you see? How can I _not_ believe in a good and loving God?"

"Oh, Georg," Maria cried, her face crumpling as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "I love you so much. Thank you for that. I'm just so scared. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to take you away from me."

"We won't think about it right now," he said soothingly, reaching to kiss away each tear until the last one fell.

"You're right," Maria nodded after a cleansing breath. "We've been blessed to come this far together. We can't give up hope, no matter what. I feel so much better now."

"I'm glad to hear you say it," Georg said, a bit of hesitance in his voice. "Because I couldn't get through to the villa. The whole world is on the phone right now, it seems."

"I see."

"I did arrange our tickets, but the earliest we can leave is tomorrow morning," he continued, eying his wife carefully. It was bad enough they had to cut the honeymoon short. He had wanted to give her some good news to cling to until they were able to get home. But instead of disappointment, he noted a rather pleased look on her face. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

"So what you are telling me, Captain, is that we still have one more night in Paris," Maria said, working a finger around his tie and scooting herself closer.

"I'm afraid so," he mumbled, her kisses drifting until she was nipping gently on his ear.

M&G&M&G&M&G

_Sorry, but I'm going to leave the there. You'll have to use your imagination. And know some of you, you already are…_

**Next: G is for Greeting**


	7. Chapter 7: G is for Greeting

_A quick one this time. Just a quick, fluffy piece of Georg and Maria fluff. I borrowed the premise of this one-shot and am very thankful to the source. I hope I do it justice. Please let me know what you think about this, reviews really make my day. Thanks! Disclaimer: same as A-F… characters and TSOM are not mine._

**G is for Greeting: A story about how the two characters met**

Georg held the door open for Maria who scooted past him with a few swift steps, quickly taking his hand as he followed. She had feared he would be cross with her for making them miss the last train to the city but once again he reminded her (between stolen kisses) that they were on their honeymoon and there was no itinerary or timetable. She smiled, remembering how he had said as much on the third morning after they arrived when he kept her in bed until it was nearly lunch time.

Georg strode purposely by her toward a deserted desk. Maria turned to look around the small sitting area that she guessed was to serve as a reception area. It was a quaint little inn and she was sure they would be comfortable and fine to stay there.

She turned her head toward the desk when she heard three sharp rings of the service bell. Georg looked over at her and winked, something that still made her knees turn to jelly. She responded in turn with a coy smile, hoping it would not be too long before they could be alone for the rest of the night.

Soon an old man came in through a private door and shuffled his feet toward the desk with little to no sense of hurry. Behind him came a woman of similar age, who moved slowly to the bottom of the stairs and waited patiently for business to be conducted so she could show them to their room. The old man, however, leaned over and looked Georg up and down and then shot a curious and unpleasant look at Maria. He shook his head with a frown before finally speaking.

"What is it that you want?"

"We'd like a room, of course," Georg said lightly, reaching for Maria's hand. He was surprised to find the man to be so unfriendly but they were late and supposed they had interrupted his dinner.

"I see," the old man said, shooting another scrutinizing glance at Maria who had stepped a little closer, noting that there was an obvious difference in age between the two prospective guests. It was usually the most tell-tale sign. "For one night, I presume?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And no luggage?"

"Well, no. We don't have any bags, but…"

"Then I'm afraid I cannot serve you," the old man stated flatly. "This is a respectable hotel."

"Now, hold on a moment," Georg said sharply, squaring his shoulders back. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm sorry, was I too subtle? You and your…" The man gestured at Maria with a condescending wave of his hand. "… will have to find somewhere else to spend your evening together."

Georg fumed for a minute before leaning closer toward the proprietor of the inn so he could whisper. He was no longer interested in excusing the man's poor manners and would certainly not let Maria be subjected to this man's disgusting assumptions. "I would like a room for one night for _my wife_ and me. If you'd be so kind." The old man scoffed.

"Sir, I have been the proprietor of this establishment for many, many years. I've seen many couples come through those doors, late at night with no luggage looking for a room for one night… they all claim to be married."

"But we _are_ married!" Georg brought his fist down fast, but with some restraint. Maria jumped quickly to his side and placed a calming hand on his forearm.

"Darling, let me try to explain," she said quietly to him to which he rolled his eyes to the ceiling before bringing his head down to rest wearily in one of his hands.

"It's very simple, you see," Maria said, ignoring Georg's exasperation and turning toward the old man with a smile. "We are staying in Paris for our honeymoon but today we chose to come and explore the beautiful countryside. The city is lovely, of course, so much to see and do there, but we just felt the need for a change, if you know what I mean."

"Maria, my dear, please…"

"One moment, Georg, I'm going to explain," Maria hushed him.

"Then please make it quick," he groaned, his impatience with the proprietor starting to include his wife. Maria just patted his arm and continued.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. We came by train, naturally, but somehow we missed the last one back to the city. It's my fault, I know," she quickly gave her husband a look that said she knew what he was thinking. "But the sky was so blue today and the fields and flowers were so fragrant, I just had to be part of it. I just kept walking and walking. At one point I saw this little path and I wanted so desperately to see where it went. The trail was like something out of a storybook, I almost expected to see fairies flitting about in the trees." By this time, the woman by the stairs had moved to stand next to the man behind the desk, her eyes fixed on Maria with wonder. "Anyway, I lost all track of time and before we knew it the last train to Paris left without us. So that's why we're here so late, and that's why we have no luggage." Maria shrugged, both palms straight up in the air as she did so. A disbelieving chuckle rumbled out of the old man.

"Unbelievable," he said before turning toward Georg. "Wherever did you find her?"

"Nonnberg Abbey," Maria volunteered before her husband could say a word.

"A convent? You met… in a convent?!" This time it was the old lady who asked.

"Actually no," Georg interjected quickly. "You wouldn't, I mean… you don't really want to hear the story of how we met. I assure you, though, that we are married and simply need a place to sleep for the night. Please, may we have a room?"

"Actually, I would like to hear it," the woman said, settling against the desk, her eyes fixed on Maria. "I am having a rather difficult time figuring out how a distinguished gentleman would end up married to a nun." With a romantic twinkle in her eye, she added with a low voice, "Was it love at first sight?"

"Heaven's no!" Maria laughed. "He was disagreeable the moment I set eyes on him, regarding me with a menacing scowl..."

"If I scowled, it was because I found you trespassing," Georg pushed in. "Anyway, I seem to recall you were rather pleased with how I looked, or at least that I didn't look at all like a sea captain."

"Pleased? Well, maybe relieved is a better word. It was absolutely humiliating the way you inspected and studied me right there in the hall," she returned. "Making me spin around, making superficial judgments about my clothes, my hair…"

"I said nothing about your hair!" Georg exclaimed. "But even you have to admit that dress was an awful eye-sore." He turned to the couple behind the desk. "She had to plumb the depths of the charity barrel and find the only dress the poor didn't want."

"It wasn't that bad," Maria defended. "But if we want to discuss hideous clothing, perhaps I should mention those get-ups the children were wearing when we met, hmm?"

"Uniforms," Georg sighed.

"Straightjackets."

"Just a moment, please," the man interrupted. "Children?"

"Yes," Maria stated matter of fact. "I was there to be a governess for his seven children."

"Seven?!" the woman cried. Maria nodded knowingly.

"You should have seen the darlings, dressed like little sailors, marching in a line to the shrill pitch of a most wretched whistle…"

"Now hold on just a minute, Maria," Georg cut in. "I thought you liked my silly whistle."

"You must be joking! Making anyone answer to a whistle is bad enough, but children?"

Georg shook his head in disbelief and stepped back. "Well, this has been quite enlightening, my dear."

"Oh, Georg, really," Maria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I only said all that about the whistle because you told me how you knew you loved me when I sat on the pinecone."

"That stupid pinecone," he said, a single laugh bursting from his throat as he turned to the proprietor. "She was late for dinner…"

"I was only a few minutes late and besides, no one bothered to tell me exactly when dinner was to be served…"

"… and she screamed like a banshee because the children put a pinecone on her chair. A pinecone! You would have thought she sat on a pin cushion!"

"Did you even see the size of that thing?" Maria clenched her fists at her side and glared at Georg.

"You made my children cry." Georg turned squarely toward Maria.

"You told me that you fell in love with me when I sat on that ridiculous pinecone," Maria challenged, her tone even and irritated.

"And you told me you fell in love with me when I blew that silly whistle," Georg countered, just as exasperated.

Maria and Georg looked away from each other in frustration as a tense silence rose up between them. The old lady turned to the old man waiting for him to say or do something.

"Montrez-leur à manger quatre, Linette," the old man muttered, handing her a key. She looked at the key and then back to the old man. "Seules les personnes mariées se chamaillent comme ça."*

*_"Show them to room four, Linette. Only married people bicker like that." If google translate can be trusted. I don't speak French. At all._

**Next: H is for Haunt**


	8. Chapter 8: H is for Haunt

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and/or followed these stories. It is such an encouragement to me and helps me keep writing. I don't own TSOM, the characters, or much of anything really. As it has happened before, I had to play a bit with the interpretation of the prompt._

_When you're done reading this, look up and read 'The Balcony' by augiesannie. Well, review first and then go read it. Or reread it, as the case may be._

**H is for Haunt: A story about one character watching over the other**

I.

He stepped up to the door quietly and peered inside. He was not prepared for what he saw. A shadow passed carefully and quietly to the center of the room, turning in slow circles to take in the ornate walls and molded ceilings. As upset as this disregard for his privacy and property made him, he couldn't bring himself to move or speak. He was filled with a mixture of fascination and irritation. She wasn't at all what he had expected. For one thing, she was young, he guessed a mere fistful of years older than his Liesl. And for another, her trespassing indicated she did not possess the kind of discipline that made him go Nonnberg in the first place.

Just as he was about to make his presence known, the intruder bowed. Then she curtsied. Then she bowed _and_ curtsied. It was a most spectacularly absurd display and Georg found himself almost frozen with aggravation to know what to do with this creature the convent had sent to him. At best he had been misunderstood and at worst, duped. Finally, he could watch no longer. In an instant he shoved both doors open, bracing them with his arms as they slammed against the ballroom walls with a loud bang. The postulant was startled to see him, and quickly ran from the room.

"In the future you'll kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house which are not to be disturbed," he said sternly as he took a good look at her. She was smiling back at him, unafraid and completely unapologetic.

II.

He wished she hadn't separated herself from the rest of his audience. Elsa and Max sat across from him, just beyond the children gathered on the floor at his feet, but she stood off to the side, leaning gently against the side table. Her position made it impossible not to be obvious about it, but she was like gravity and he couldn't keep his gaze from drifting toward her as he sang. For reasons he couldn't fathom, he stopped bothering to try.

Maybe it was because even in her quiet contemplative state, she still looked like she had something to say. Whatever it was, he was sure it was truth, sure she was incapable of any other type of thought. She called it being outspoken, as if it were some kind of curse. A most unusual curse, then, for it opened his eyes and restored his heart.

Perhaps it was the look on her face, so open and real. He believed he could read her like words on a page. Her smile grew with each glance until he could feel the radiance of it clear across the room, warming his hands against the guitar and the song floating past his lips.

Maybe it was the dress and the way that particular shade of blue sparked her eyes, revealing her heart and soul and giving that very moment between them color and brightness.

Whatever it was, he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

III.

He belonged inside, where the champagne flowed and the gentlemen and ladies spun around the ballroom in their glittering finery. He was born into it, and served it honorably (according to the medals pinned to his chest and hanging around his neck). It was what he knew, or at least thought he knew. Things were happening, the world was changing. He was feeling more and more a stranger in that world.

She was outside with the children trying to dance with Kurt. Her laughter was music, sweeter to his ears than the orchestra inside. But there, out in the open, where the moonlight gathered and danced on her skin, her charm was her gown, and her smile adorned her like diamonds. She was scented with goodness and a boundless capacity to love. This was where she belonged.

He stood between both of these worlds, slid on his white gloves and made his way toward her. At that moment he wanted to do more than simply watch her.

IV.

He wasn't used to being so unnerved, to feeling so unable to sort through the confusion raging inside his head. She had run away, fled into the night without a word to anyone except a short note that seemed more like an excuse than a reason.

But then she came back. He watched it happen from the house as his children rushed to embrace her, nearly knocking her over with their joy. She took in their love with arms wide open, refusing to deny or hide her own happiness to see them again. Her hips and limbs swayed with a new confidence and self-possession.

And then with one sentence—"_Father's going to be married_."- he saw it all vanish and for one briefest of moments she froze, her voice thick with bewilderment. By the time her eyes met his she had partially recovered. She faced him with stiff bravery and spoke with a strained neutrality… she wasn't back. Not to stay, anyway.

Now he watched her again, this time wandering aimlessly around the grounds. Her head remained bowed and her steps seemed uncertain. The figure he saw displayed none of her earlier stoicism. This was not the woman who sang about rain and roses, who brought music into their house and laughter into their lives. How could he have been such a fool and let it come to this?

He was a bit relieved when her silhouette melted into the shadows and disappeared. For the first time since he met her, he couldn't bear to watch her another minute.

V.

He knew he wasn't the only one watching her this time; the guests, eager for a glimpse of the woman who captured his heart, were as mesmerized as he to see her making her way gracefully down the aisle.

His children watched her with a meaningful pride, beaming as if they had known all along how much they needed her, how much _he_ needed her.

The Sisters watched her from afar, understanding the significance of this, her final journey. She belonged to them first, but very soon she would belong to him forever.

She was simply radiant and his heart swelled with each step that brought her closer, for while everyone was watching her, her eyes were solely on him.

VI.

The children settled down to sleep on a soft patch of grass, huddled together like newborn puppies. He was proud of them all. They had walked and climbed valiantly well into the early morning without fear or complaint. He was sure they were safe enough for a little rest.

He watched her calm them with soft words, humming quietly until the last of them closed his eyes. Satisfied, she made her way to his side. He opened his arms to her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her sleepy head and he gathered her into his embrace.

"Go on, get some sleep," he ordered gently after a few minutes of holding her. "This has been a very long day."

"What about you?" she asked, stifling a yawn as she snuggled closer to steal his warmth.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Besides, someone's got to keep watch."

**Next: I is for Invite**


	9. Chapter 9: I is for Invite

_A/N: Ok, time for a rating (and gratuitous fluff) warning. I kept it firmly in the 'T' realm, but I know some of you… try to control yourselves. Disclaimer: Same as A-H_

**I is for Invite: One character invites the other to… **

They spent their fifth morning in Paris lazily. Maria wrote postcards as Georg poured over the morning headlines. He would peek over the edge of the paper every so often just to watch her adorably chewing on the pen as she labored over choosing the right card for each children and then write it out with a careful hand.

When she had finally finished the last one and double checked that they were stamped, Georg reached for them. He shuffled through them with a smile.

"I'm very much impressed, my dear," he told her as he stood up and reached for his suit jacket. "I need to run a couple errands, so I'll be glad to drop these off at the desk on my way out."

"If you're willing to wait a few minutes for me to take a shower and get dressed, I'll come with you."

"No, no, you stay," Georg insisted. "Why don't you take a nice long bath? I'll be back before the water gets cold." Maria shrugged and made a face. "What, doesn't a bath appeal to you?"

"Not really," Maria said plainly. "A shower is suffice. The point is to get clean, is it not?"

"Well, sure, but I thought maybe you'd like to take your time, relax. Pamper yourself." He laughed at the blank look she gave him at the very idea. Before they were married he promised himself that he would be patient and helpful, that he would be mindful of her comfort at all times. Whatever he had expected from his bride, history should have told him she would surprise him and delightfully so. She embraced every experience of their honeymoon with such eager enthusiasm that her disinterest in his suggestion to a hot bath floored him. "Do you have something against taking a bath?"

"How silly," she scoffed. "I took baths all my life." Georg could have sworn he saw her shudder as she said it. At that moment, he thought he might understand. Sometimes he forgot how different her life had been before she came to him and from what little detail he knew about her upbringing, he suspected they were not talking about the same kind of bath.

"But didn't you ever take a hot bubble bath?" he asked. Maria laughed loudly.

"Of course, darling!" she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "Every night I lived at the convent! Then the Sisters and I would do our hair and discuss the latest Paris fashions." He put his hands up in surrender, repeated his promise not to be too long as he kissed her on the top of her head, and departed.

As he walked from the hotel to the bank, Georg decided to add one more place to the list of errands. Once he found a small shop and made a few purchases, he hurried back to the hotel quite proud of himself and his idea. Maria had a practical nature that he adored but this was their honeymoon and a perfect opportunity to indulge in some spoiling.

Besides, once the image of Maria lazily soaking in a deep tub of steam and bubbles formed in his mind, it was difficult to think of much else.

He entered their suite and was pleased to see that she was still in her robe, engrossed in some reading while he was gone. She hopped up once she realized he was there, somewhat embarrassed that the time got away from her and she was still not dressed.

"I'm sorry, darling, I haven't washed and dressed yet," she apologized as she rushed toward the bathroom, but Georg cut her off.

"No, I'm glad," he said, urging her to stay put with a gentle hand on her arm. Maria noted a mischievous glint in his eye and stepped away from him suspiciously.

"What are you up to? I know that look," she muttered, somewhat intrigued and yet quite cautious.

"It's a surprise. Can't I surprise you?"

"I'm not sure," she said, tilting her head sideways. "What is in that package?"

"You'll see," he promised, a grin spreading wide across his face. He slowly backed away from her until he was in the bathroom. He winked as he closed the door. Maria could hear him laugh at her exasperated groan.

Minutes later, he opened the door to find her sitting on the arm of a nearby chair, her chin resting on her hand, clearly tired of waiting. She looked up and gasped at the vision of him standing in a cloud of steam. He had shed his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. The humidity left his hair in quite a state of disarray, extra curls flopping across his forehead. She thought she had witnessed all manners of becoming undone with this man, but this was a first and she had to admit she liked it.

"What on earth…?" Maria managed to say as he quickly made his way to her and took her by the hand. He pulled her into the bathroom to reveal his surprise.

The room was dimly lit with a scattering of candle, and she was greeted instantly by the aroma of lavender. Finally her gaze settled on the bathtub, filled to the top with foam and bubbles. She stifled a giggle, unsure of how she was supposed to react.

"What is all this?"

"I thought it was about time you had a treat," he said. "I'm sure the baths you've had in the past were quite fit for a mountain girl and a nun from the Abbey, but this bath is for my Baroness who deserves every comfort and luxury, especially during her honeymoon."

"This is silly," she replied, dipping her fingers into the silky suds. She shook her head, but her eyes were wide, and the smile on her face told him she was more than pleased.

"I mean it, Maria," he said as he took her hand in both of his. "I want to give you the finest of everything. I want to fuss over you, indulge you and spoil you forever. Even if it is something as simple as drawing you a bath. I don't want a single day to go by when I don't show in some way just how incredibly special you are." He lifted her hand to his lips and rested his lips softly in her palm. Slowly he kissed the inside of her wrist and then further up her arm and finally tugging her gently to himself, he kissed her deeply on the lips.

"I don't know what to say," Maria said breathlessly when he released her.

"I do. Get in." Georg reached for the sash on her robe. At first Maria pulled away and resisted his attempt to undress her, but he simply raised his eyebrow and she gave in.

"I feel like the subject of one of those French oil paintings we saw at the museum," she giggled, stepping one leg into the hot water.

"There's no comparison, my dear," Georg answered smoothly. "You are far more beautiful."

"Quite the charming bath attendant, aren't you," Maria said cheekily as she lowered into the bubbles. She let out a long breath as the hot water consumed her. "This is very nice. And it smells wonderful. But…" She looked at him, clearly unsure of something.

"Is something wrong?"

"No! No, it isn't that, but… all this trouble just to get clean."

"You're supposed to relax," he said patiently, reaching for a bath sponge and dipping it in the water. He squeezed water out over her shoulders and then gently began to wash her back. Maria stared into his eyes as he did. It felt so nice and she wondered how she was supposed to relax when he was doing things like that. "Close your eyes, lean back. Just rest and let your muscles soak."

Maria nodded and closed her eyes. Slowly she reclined her head on the edge of the tub, letting out heavy sighs of happiness. Georg smiled as her arms moved back and forth through the soapy surface, small waves splashing across her collarbone and shoulders. She was starting to get the idea.

"I never saw a tub as large as this until I went to live at the Abbey," she murmured lazily. "I thought it was because it was used to do laundry. Then I saw the one in my bathroom at the villa and wondered if laundry was part of my duties." She laughed at herself, then opened her eyes halfway. "It isn't like I haven't thought about something like this before, you know. It just seemed a bit… too indulgent for a postulant." She shook her head lightly as let out a small laugh. "I don't know, it just seemed a mark of decadence and excess. I think it's because I saw this movie once when I was a girl in school and there was this scene of a Roman empress taking a milk bath. It was quite scandalous. At one point, the empress invited her servant to get in the bath with her."

"You shock me!"

"_Dacia, you're a butterfly with the sting of a wasp. Take off your clothes. Get in here and tell me about it,_" Maria quoted with a sultry voice before bursting into laughter. "My friend and I promised to never tell anyone what we saw. We were sure we'd get into all kinds of trouble if we were found out."

"Now that- you sneaking around and getting into trouble. That doesn't shock me." Georg laughed as he moved away from the edge of the tub. He hung her robe on the back of the door and set a couple of fresh towels nearby. He opened the door to leave her to enjoy the rest of her bath, but turned to see her one last time. She was sitting up, one arm hanging over the side of the tub while the other pillowed her head against the edge. She was looking at him dreamily.

"This bathtub sure is big," she practically purred.

"No French painter could possibly capture how absolutely alluring you are right now," he said in a low raspy voice.

"Captain," she hummed seductively. "_Take off your clothes. Get in here and tell me about it._"

_A/N: The movie quote is from 'The Sign of the Cross' (1932). Definitely pre-code. Definitely. _

**Next: J is for Jest**


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